


Still Called Son

by sElkieNight60



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood, Bruce Wayne POV, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Robin, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Dick Grayson, Injury, Se.N, YeetDC2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26301445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sElkieNight60/pseuds/sElkieNight60
Summary: The door denied him access again and Dick slammed his fist by the panel, looking broken and defeated. Through the monitor, Bruce could see his chin wobble and a few tears leak out behind the mask.If Dick died tonight it would be all his fault.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 39
Kudos: 373





	Still Called Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CKBookish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/gifts).



> I'm still bitter over Season 1 Titans where Dick is locked out of the safe-house. DC can take Bad Dad Bruce and Yeet him into the sun.
> 
> This was inspired by that. Thanks to CKBookish for listening to me rant about it forever.

Bruce was settling in for the night, still hunched over the bat-computer with his peppermint tea, hot steam rising and warming his lips, but almost ready to call it a night given how quiet crime had been this evening when something happened; a security alarm went off for his safe-house in Chicago. This was unusual. Firstly, not many had attempted to break into his safe-houses over the years, and those that had were: The Joker or otherwise exclusively limited to certain Justice League members who needed an emergency place to stay—namely, Oliver Queen, when he had somehow managed to infuriate Dinah, _again._

Drawing up the system, Bruce was able to confirm that no one had entered the apartment. The security hadn't even been hacked. It simply looked as though someone had attempted to scan their thumbprint and had been denied access.

 _Maybe it_ was _Ollie again._ The thought felt like a tired sigh in his mind—though Chicago was a way for Oliver to go just for a safe-house. It was probably just some burglars, hopelessly outmatched and most definitely outclassed by Wayne Security.

With an audible sigh this time, Bruce manually typed in the commands, bringing up the security feed in an attempt to either identify the criminal or alert the local authorities. However, what Bruce saw was neither a criminal nor a wayward JLA member. The sight of the person on the other side of the camera had Bruce launching out of his slouch like a frightened bird taking wing. Every muscle in his back was ramrod straight as he spent an eternity blinking away the shock and surprise.

Everything fell away.

Entirely forgetting his tea and abandoning the notion of heading up early for a good night's sleep, two fingers came up to rest on the screen and the figure by the stairwell.

“Dick,” he whispered, through unmoving lips.

The image was grainy and Bruce almost had his nose pressed up against the monitor, trying to see his… his ex-ward. A shock of familiar sadness zipped through him like an electric current. It nearly sent him sitting back in his chair again, reeling with hurt and guilt and a great number of other emotions that recently had become synonymous with the thought of his former ward. Bruce had no right to feel these things, given how it had been _he_ to drive Dick away in the first place, but he found the emotions only growing worse over time, not better as some had claimed they would.

The singular thing to stop him from turning off the monitor was the unexpected wheeze and the quiet whine of pain that Bruce would know anywhere.

Dick was in his Robin uniform. Bruce had not thought Dick was even still going out as Robin; he scoured the news every morning, looking for headlines, scraps, anything to do with Robin, but all he ever saw were articles about wage theft, crime, plummeting stocks and Batman. However, it was clear that Dick had kept the uniform, despite Bruce suspecting otherwise.

Examining his—Dick, as closely as the grainy image would allow, Bruce could tell he had one arm wrapped around his middle. The young man's weight was resting against a wall and he was still, unnaturally so for Dick.

Another whine of pain left the young man as he sucked in a deep breath, followed by a whimper. It broke Bruce's heart. Every fibre of his being wanted to don the cape and cowl and fly to his injured… his injured Dick. But not a single muscle would comply.

Dick grimaced and his bottom lip trembled as he looked up, this time allowing Bruce to catch a glimpse of blood, streaking across his cheek like war-paint. The mask covered his eyes, but for Bruce it was easy to read past it. Every line on Dick's weary face cried pain and fatigue and _loss_ and _hopelessness._

“Dick—” Bruce whispered again, panic fluttering about like a butterfly in his heart. But nothing else came out, the rest of the sentence lodged in his throat. It was not like Dick could hear him anyway.

When Dick lifted his fingers away from his waist to examine them, the sight made Bruce sick. Blood. Lots of blood. It dripped down Dick's fingers as easily as wine from a bottle. Bruce could feel himself grow paler by the second.

_No, his Dick, his son._

A gunshot, Bruce noted, cataloguing every injury, ever bruise and scrape that he could see. It wasn't a bad wound, it clearly hadn't hit anything vital, but if things kept going the way they were, Dick would bleed out on the doorstep to Bruce's safe-house.

With a grunt and a hiss followed by a wheeze of agony that sounded completely breathless and tore Bruce's mile-a-minute pounding heart right out of his throat, Dick pulled himself back up onto his wobbly legs, taking one step at a time over to the door-lock again. Crimson painted his entire hand and Bruce could feel wetness in the corners of his eyes, a hopelessness overcoming him.

_If Dick died tonight it would be all his fault._

Dick didn't bother for the thumb-scan again, instead he punched in the code—old and out of date only because Bruce had changed it in a fit of rage during one of his arguments with Dick. Oh, how he regretted that now.

The door denied him access again and Dick slammed his fist by the panel, looking broken and defeated. Through the monitor, Bruce could see his chin wobble and a few tears leak out behind the mask.

“Damn it, Bruce,” he swore through a whisper, sinking, sliding down the wall.

With the ferocity and force of a waterfall, another surge of panic rose within him, the sound of Dick's voice kicking his ass into gear.

Bruce's fingers flew over the keyboard of the bat-computer, his tea abandoned and well beyond cold. Quickly manoeuvring through the outdated pass-codes, Bruce could not grant Dick access any faster. The sound of the door unlocking, chiming with a friendly noise, and the sight of Dick's head bobbing, black locks lifting into sight of the camera once more, allowed Bruce to suck in a shaky breath.

Bruce could not see the young man's expression as he hauled himself into standing again and gripped the open door for leverage, leaving a bloodied hand print around the lock. Once inside, however, Bruce turned the hallway camera on and saw the truly dishevelled and bloodied mess that his son was. It was enough to have Bruce sucking in a tight breath through his teeth, chest ready to explode.

Dick went straight for the bathroom, seeking out the medical supplies that would be there in the second draw down. The young man sat himself on the floor and pulled all the fluffy towels off the rails, staining them all in red. All Bruce could do was watch, mostly in horror, as Dick fished out the bullet with the aid of a pair of long tweezers and nothing to numb the pain.

Bruce sat through the whole thing, forcing himself to watch as Dick eventually sewed himself back up without aid and then mopped up the blood on his chest and on the floor with the discarded towels.

It was only after the young man turned the shower on that Bruce switched off the camera, finally willing to give Dick privacy.

His hands trembled. He placed them on the keys of the computer only so they would stop shaking. A million thoughts raced through his mind.

_Dick could have died tonight and he might not ever have known it._

A halting inhalation caught in his throat and the broken sob tore out of him, like a rag, shredded in half.

_The pass-codes needed changing again. Bruce needed to reinstall Dick's bio-data into the system. The fact that he had ever thought taking Dick out of the system at all was one of the largest oversights of his life._

Folded almost in half over the desk, like a paper pressed along a sharp line, he began to cry in earnest, every sob ricocheting off the walls of the cave.

_Bruce needed to call him, he needed to call his son. There was no way he could go on like this, with Dick entirely cut out of his life. It was like losing an organ. Nothing else mattered. Bruce's fortune, Batman… nothing mattered more than Dick._

With the easy won resolve in his chest, he finally wiped away the tear tracks running down his cheeks and lopping off his chin. Bruce sat up, turned the computer monitor off, lifted up the cold cup of tea, and began to head upstairs.

The morning would bring changes. And Bruce would be their catalyst.

Dick might not be coming home, but Bruce was sure as hell not abandoning the young man he loved. The young man his heart still called son.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you liked this work! Also, if you want to make a new friend, come chat with me at [Tumblr](https://selkienight60.tumblr.com/).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The one where Bruce is an asshole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103384) by [ParadoxInsanity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxInsanity/pseuds/ParadoxInsanity)
  * [And for mercy I begged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666944) by [bluebats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebats/pseuds/bluebats)




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